Barbie & Ken got it on.
They had lots of unprotected
Barbie insisted– naked she came,
and fused (or melted) they would be.
Ken insisted on casting a sideways
glance at his origins,
and liked to talk philosophy.
Why are we different, Barbie?
Shut up Ken, we’re the same.
Barbie liked to place her plastic white
ass on Ken’s sculpted pink face in an attempt
to cover her disability of not having
legs which opened in a natural way.
It’s what Ken wanted.
Appendages taken out of context–
broken like ballerina ankles or hidden hearts asking for so little.
The only dialogue that mattered was—
I’ll take care of you, Ken.
and Save me, Barbie.
It was completely redundant to say,
I can help you or I can fix you.
The I and you always got played
the same way.
The scene would end—- immaturely
with Ken’s head being popped off.
And Barbie would strap her heels on like a real
fucked up grown-up.
I’m sifting through my old shit in an attempt to start a new narrative. Thanks for wading through so much stuff like this over the past year. I know you have the choice to read or not to read. ✌🏻